Give Me One Miracle
by strawnilla
Summary: The blood, for a moment under the moonlight, has the likeliness of an angel's wings.


it took me half a year later to realize that i never posted the spajo stories i wrote on ffn. here they are! this one's tragedy

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Spade is running, when Joker turns his head over his shoulder and challenges him from a few steps ahead, _That treasure is definitely mine!_ An almost maniacal grin appears on Spade's face, and a retort makes way to the tip of his tongue but then Spade sees a sword graze, no, _slash_ , at Joker's back, and the long-haired boy swears his heart dropped cold.

The blood, for a moment under the moonlight, has the likeliness of an angel's wings.

It's gone immediately, when Joker crumbles to his knees, choking out blood.

He hears Hachi from further back call out for the other Phantom Thief in unmasked horror, and he thinks he notices Dark Eye running right ahead of him towards the assailant, a large broad guardian statue that's moving slowly, but all of that disappears, all of it, _all of it_ , when he realizes Joker really isn't standing back up again.

Spade drops to his knees, screw the dirt on the ground and his pants, right next to Joker and he feels his breath choke him when he sees how large and deep the wound is. The size of the pool of blood around him isn't helping, either.

His hands tremble when he reaches for Joker's shoulder, gently, slowly, delicately shaking him. The intensity of the moment makes him think of nothing else, his focus entirely on making sure that _Joker is fine._

"Joker...?" he ventures. He gets nothing in reply.

But Joker's breathing is rapid, laboured, and he can work with that because _thank God he's still alive,_ he's still savable.

A voice in the back of his mind says, _How do you save him from a wound like this? We're on a deserted island for crying out loud. Neither of you used your zeppelins to get here, your supplies are definitely not enough. Can you really pull a miracle?_

 _Shut up_ , he spits at the voice.

"Okay, Joker, stay with me," he says, for lack of anything else comforting to say. He thinks Joker might have grunted, but he can't be sure. He can't really hear anything else either, no, because his blood is pumping in his ears and he's pretty sure his heart is somewhere in there too, deafening him so badly he has to strain to hear the sounds of battle from somewhere behind him.

Spade takes off his coat in a rush, because _God damn it the wound is still bleeding, how didn't he notice it, he blames it on Joker's gaudy red suit_ , and tries to stop the flow. But the wound, he admits with pinpricks of tears in his eyes, is far too long and deep and he thinks he might have choked back a sob.

"Joker? Joker, can you hear me?" God, what is he supposed to do now? He's supposed to know how to deal with something like this but every time he tries to remember, it escapes him like water through his fingers. He almost lets out a frustrated groan.

"Spade...?" the silver-haired boy tries to lift his head from the dirt, tries to find Spade with his eyes, but winces visibly in the process. He even has the nerve to chuckle and Spade resists the temptation of smacking him over his head. Joker says, "I've never heard you so scared..."

"That's what you care about right now?!"

"Ah, well, that cut in my back really does sting..."

He wants to shout at him, yell at him that _it's not just a cut, moron, it's so much more and you're losing so much blood, what do I do, what do I do?!_

"Spade? Hey, Spade...?"

"W-What...?"

"Can you... turn me over?"

Spade freezes for a moment. "I'll hurt you if I do."

Joker forces out a laugh. "Just do it. Please?"

Spade gulps. Joker never asks him for anything. Especially not with a 'please' in tow. At first not knowing how to do it, he decides to fold his blood-drenched coat to make it a large puffy pillow. Carefully, he puts his arms around Joker's shoulder and, with a grunt, hoists Joker's head onto the pillow, his face facing the sky.

Joker visibly winces, arching his back with a hiss. Spade gasps and his hands move to lift Joker, but the other is faster when he manages to hold onto Spade's hand to stop him. Joker's breathing is still deep and erratic, but he manages a smile when their eyes meet. "Hey. You look miserable."

"No thanks to you!"

Joker tries to laugh but it sounds tired and broken. "You know... I've always wanted to ask you... Why do you..." he takes a shaky breath, "write...? I know it's an Upperworld job, but you're... so serious about it..."

 _He's bleeding out. He's going to die soon._

 _SHUT UP._

Spade takes a shaky breath too. He tries to keep his voice steady. He thinks he failed by the end of his sentence. "I've always liked reading."

Joker smirks. "That can't be... the only reason... I actually... read some... of your works... Almost all of them... are about our adventures... when we were younger... right?"

Spade feels his heart drop again. "Why are you bringing this up now?"

The other seems to have tried for a shrug, but it comes out as another wince. "It crossed... my mind...?"

"You, Joker, have the _worst_ timing." He tries to make it sound snarky but his voice betrays him yet again. He sniffs, biting his lip. Joker is still looking at him expectantly and he has to look away. "...You're right. All of those stories, book upon books of them, they're all about the three of us."

"Why...?"

"Writing is easier when I want to... express how I really feel, without needing to face you."

"Eeeh... You're a corny guy, Spade."

His hand that's holding Joker's is getting tired. But he doesn't care. He uses his other hand too, in case he accidentally lets go. Joker is making him talk, distracting him, and _fine,_ he'll bloody talk, since Joker insists on it so much.

"I write... about us... because for all of those years, I never... I never had the strength to tell you..." Spade chokes on his words, his hands holding Joker's weak and bloody one tighter.

There are tears, tears all too familiar running down his eyes, like long lost friends he hasn't seen in a while. Joker looks at him. His blue eyes, the brightest blue Spade has ever seen on any person, are slowly losing its shine, but the smirk is still there. That ever annoying smirk he wants nothing but to punch away.

"Tell me what...?" Joker prods, his voice raspy but teasing. A trail of blood trickles down his mouth. Spade sniffs. He tries to get the words out, his mouth open, hanging. But no sound comes out and he simply sobs when Joker's hand slowly loses its grip on his. Spade swallows back a sob. He rests his forehead on their joint hands.

"How grateful I am that you came to that ship that night. How much it meant to me when you held out your hand, how much your words gave an impact on me. You never realized it, you probably never even thought about it. But I am thankful to you, Joker."

Spade's tears comes faster. He grits his teeth, closes his eyes, and cries.

"Thank you... for making my nights sparkle once again."

The hand in his grip goes slack. He shakes the hand, squeezes it. "Joker? Say something...? Please?"

There's no response.  
"Joker... Joker, this isn't funny!" his eyes open rapidly, his own breath turning eratic. He sees that Joker's blue eyes are closed. His chest isn't moving. Spade feels like someone shot him with his own ice gun. "Joker!"

Still nothing.

Spade feels a scream stuck in his throat. He cradles Joker closer to him, pulling him to his chest and shaking him. He feels a hand on his shoulder, he thinks it's Dark Eye, or maybe even Hachi, but he shrugs it off, clenching the cold, cold, _cold_ body of Kaitou Joker to his own. He's choking over his words, his nose is runny, and to damn it all about appearance. "Come on... You're a miracle maker, aren't you?! P-Please... just..." Spade sobs.

" _One more miracle..._ "


End file.
